


Ringer

by thisgirlsays22



Category: due South
Genre: Dr. Longball, Episode Tag, M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25750678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisgirlsays22/pseuds/thisgirlsays22
Summary: Ray may have brought the wrong person with him to Mexico.
Relationships: Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski
Comments: 21
Kudos: 56





	Ringer

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Julie and CJ for betaing (CJ fielded my panic about the initial name of the OC being TOO RECENT OOPS and gave me a suggestion I loved immediately.) <3
> 
> And major thanks to the wonderful folks in the dS server who indulged me with lots of jokes about how Ray probably wouldn't shut up about Fraser and that's why his date ditched him in Mexico during Dr. Longball. (CJ & gingerfiend I still hope to see your versions of this story!)

Fraser had been stuck at the consulate the day Ray busted Stacie for cashing bad checks at the mall. The way her dress clung to her waist and the way she tilted her head to the side with a sly smile when she looked up at him flustered Ray a little bit. He’d let her off with a warning when she’d insisted it was an accident, all a misunderstanding. 

If Fraser had been standing there frowning at Ray and clearing his throat and generally emitting an air of disapproval, Ray never would have sweet-talked Stacie into giving him her number. Even though Fraser wasn’t there, Ray kept seeing him out of the corner of his eye like some judge-y apparition and that was what egged Ray on more than Stacie’s long legs, her blonde hair, her pretty smile. 

If this had occurred after the many sleepless nights he had spent thinking about the Henry Allen and the way Fraser had smiled at him later—if after all those sleepless nights and getting Stacie’s number he’d then convinced Welsh it was time for a vacation, and if later that night he'd picked up the phone and said, “Hey Stacie, it’s Ray. Yeah, Vecchio. Uh-huh, yeah, the one who gave you the warning. Right, so anyway, you ever been to Mexico?” If all those things happened in that order? It was purely coincidental. No cause, no effect. A random string of happenings in the life of Ray Kowalski. 

Stacie had an air about her that she’d be down for whatever. Something in her body language. It was why he’d called her and floated the idea of Mexico when he had a few other numbers in his Rolodex he could have given a whirl. He gave her the hard sell; the club had a huge pool with palapas you could book out and a private section of the beach. He’d get them a room with a bitchin’ view. 

“So you in?” 

There was a long pause on her end and the sound of rustling. “You paying?” 

The excitement in him dimmed slightly but, hey, at least she hadn’t said no. “Yeah, yeah. I’m paying. The complete Ray Vecchio package.” 

“Alright,” she said. “But let’s get something straight. I don’t _owe_ you anything here, right? You’re not paying for _me._ I don’t want something, that’s final.” 

Ray, a gentleman, had no arguments. “The company of a beautiful woman is more than enough for me.”

“Cheesy,” she said. “But alright, I’m in.” 

After he hung up, he did a little jig around his apartment, punching the air around him. Then he called Fraser to let him know the deal. 

They were two hours away from landing, and he and Stacie had covered most of the small talk ground—he’d even given her Fraser’s whole ‘trail of the killers of his father, reasons and junctures and liaisons’ spiel—and now that they were firmly in transit and had put some cracks in the ice, Ray finally asked Stacie why she’d agreed to come. He was banking on a flirty answer, that tilt of her head and sly smile, eyelashes fluttering at him a little as she confessed her attraction, her desire for adventure and romance, how she couldn’t _believe_ her luck when Ray had called offering both. 

Instead, Stacie sighed and took a sip of beer from her plastic cup. She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m trying to maybe say yes to more things that could be good and fun for me and no to more shit like _accidentally”_ —she looked at Ray meaningfully—“cashing bad checks. It’s been a really weird year. My best friend, my partner in crime, so to speak, she has this crazy hold over me, you know?” 

“Oh, I know,” Ray said darkly and without even thinking about it he launched into a rant about Fraser and the never waiting for backup and always jumping from stupid heights and into water even when Ray couldn’t swim and all the wildly bizarre danger and how Ray would be _thisclose_ to being done and then a dead pirate would fall on his car and they’d be back at it again.

Stacie looked pretty interested through most of the pirate portion of the story, and Ray had a pretty good groove going. But when he got to the part where they’d almost drowned he started to stumble over the whole experience of struggling under the water and not being able to breathe. 

“Right, so there we were, swimming our way to freedom, but it was a long fucking ways away and—hey, you know buddy breathing right?” he said casually. 

Stacie arched an eyebrow and leaned back against the window, blocking out some of the sun. “No. What’s that?”

“See, I was running out of air under there, but Fraser? He has all this extra lung capacity. I guess it’s maybe a Canadian thing or a mountie thing or both, I dunno. But the point is he had extra air and he lent me some.” 

“What?” 

“You know like mouth to mouth he breathed some of his air into me.” 

“Oh,” she said and nodded. “Like CPR.” 

“Yeah! Except, I guess not really CPR.” Ray looked down at his tray and thought about this. He’d done CPR before and that hadn’t quite been it. 

Stacie laughed, not unkindly. “It kind of sounds like he kissed you.” 

Ray jerked his head up and looked at her sharply. “Nah, it’s standard procedure. Buddy breathing’s just standard procedure like CPR but not exactly CPR. Like a—a variation. Standard procedure,” he repeated for good measure. Ray gave a firm nod and stared past Stacie out the window behind her into the blue sky, wondering why he'd even felt compelled to share that part of the story.

Stacie tilted her head at him in that way he’d initially found so sexy and now just made him feel vaguely panicked. “Standard procedure.” 

He scratched the back of his neck. “Standard procedure, yeah. That’s what he told me after, I checked. Standard procedure.” 

She didn’t break eye contact and then nodded slowly. Her green eyes were actually starting to freak him out; they were too intense. He should have called someone less intense. “Maybe if we just keep repeating the words ‘standard procedure’ it’ll really be standard procedure.” 

Ray’s skin prickled. “What exactly are you implying?” 

Stacie lifted her hands and made a placating gesture. “Nothing, I’m just joking around.” She smiled and then said smoothly, “So you said you’ve been to Mexico before? This club or some place else?” 

And that topic of conversation was a nice detour for a while until it circled into how, yeah, he’d been there with Stella a few years back, and no no he only really saw his ex at work, and then somehow he was running his mouth about Orsini and Fraser.

Stacie’s eyes glazed over and her mouth went all tight and that only made Ray keep blurting out more dumb shit hoping he would stumble onto something that could rescue this conversation from itself, from Ray.

“Breakfast dates are bullshit, though? Right?” he asked, trying to get her back on the same page. The unbelievable freaking stupidity of breakfast dates could bond any sane two people together. 

Stacie fiddled with the miniature pretzel bag on her fold-out tray. “I don’t follow.” 

Ray gulped down his beer. “See, while we were on the stakeout, my ex, she was at this slime ball’s house the next morning. Fraser was feeding me some crap that it was a breakfast date. Now, Fraser knows his way around caribou, but he ain’t got a clue when it comes to women, let alone Stella—” 

“Maybe it _was_ a breakfast date," Stacie interjected. "Maybe it was even brunch. Have you considered brunch as a meal option, Ray? Your friend, he might have had a point.” Her voice was flat and it was clear to Ray that they were whatever the opposite of a duet was. Just two people yelling incoherent nonsense at each other. 

“Maybe he did,” he conceded, suddenly very tired. 

“Look, I think I’m gonna rest my eyes for a bit,” Stacie said. 

Ray nodded and closed his eyes for the rest of the flight too. He wished, with an unexpected fierceness, that he was back in Chicago. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised that Stacie asked if they could look around the city before they headed to the resort. They’d barely exchanged more than a few pleasantries and basic information since they’d landed in Acapulco. Ray was trying to figure out the best way to say, “Hey, it’s clear we don’t want to fuck each other, no hard feelings. You still got a place to stay,” when he realized Stacie had been talking to the street vendor with a blanket full of brightly-colored ponchos for a while. 

When Ray moved closer he heard the poncho guy saying, “There’s a deep sadness within you.” It should have made Ray roll his eyes, but there was this way he was studying Stacie that stopped Ray dead in his tracks. Something in his expression that reminded Ray of Fraser. No pity, more like he was a doctor who was trying to give her the exact right diagnosis. And Ray, some detective he was, had missed it. Because yeah, now he was viewing Stacie in profile but on the plane he had looked her dead in the eyes for a solid chunk of that four-hour flight and could see that sadness now when he played it back in his head. 

Stacie was looking back at the vendor, her jaw tight, but there wasn’t any bite when she said, “Yeah, well, isn’t that the case with everyone? You don’t exactly look like you’re jumping for joy.” 

That made poncho guy smile. “I’m Luis.” 

She stuck out her hand and Luis took it. “Stacie.” 

Ray started to say, “C’mon—” but Stacie and Luis just kept right on talking, their hands still touching. He frowned down at the blanket of ponchos and something twisted in his gut.

Finally, Ray did cut in. “Excuse me, I'd like to make a purchase,” he said, all snippy, and for a minute there he could hear Fraser in his own voice and wanted to die. He tried again: “I’m a paying customer, so it cool if I pay?” He picked up one of the ponchos laying out on the blanket at random and thrust it at Luis.

Luis gave him an easy smile. “Sure, man. Thanks. Nice choice, by the way. Suits you.” 

Stacie turned and looked at Ray. She seemed more relaxed now, and Ray knew that she wasn’t coming with him. 

“Look, Ray, I think I’m gonna stay at one of the hostels nearby. Luis said he’d show me around.” She had the decency to look apologetic, but Ray found he wasn’t angry or disappointed, mostly just relieved. “I’ll send you a check for the plane ticket,” she offered. 

“Nah,” Ray said, waving a hand. “I think we both know how that one goes with you.” 

Stacie smiled thinly at him. “Yeah, well. Thanks, then, I guess.” She was a few steps away, kicking up dust behind her sandals as she walked before she stopped and said over her shoulder. “Good luck.” 

He watched her go and then went to hail a cab to the resort. Outside the window, he watched the palm trees and the water flash by and tried to ignore the loneliness. His thoughts kept circling back to Fraser, despite his best efforts. It was only when Stacie’s words _she has this crazy hold over me, you know?_ popped into his head that he realized he hadn’t even asked her what she meant or what had happened, but they were still words he wasn’t gonna be able to quite shake.

And then for a while he just let his mind do its thing and wonder what Fraser was doing back in Chicago without him and he felt more alone than ever. 

He looked down at his hands. At least he was the proud owner of a sweet poncho now. 

When Fraser called him, Ray tried to play it cool like he hadn’t been drinking and wandering around the pool and the beach alone for the past couple of days. 

“There’s a matter in which we believe you could be of great help, Ray,” Fraser told him, and Ray couldn’t help gripping the phone tightly to his ear like Fraser’s voice just wouldn’t come through loud enough. “You see, due to a foot injury, the lieutenant was in need of someone to drive him to a small town—” 

“Wait, wait, you aren’t in Chicago?” 

“That’s right. We’re assisting the lieutenant's brother, the local sheriff, in a delicate manner. You see, there's been a series of crimes including, but not limited to, the sabotage of the local baseball team, and we’re in need of a, well, a ringer.” 

Ray perked up instantly. “A ringer.” 

“Yes, someone to go undercover on the team as it were and gather intel that might not otherwise be available to the lieutenant and myself who, as you can imagine, have drawn a great bit of attention to ourselves in a town this small.” 

“Something tells me they don’t get too many Mounties there.” 

“No. That they don’t.” He can almost hear the smile in Fraser’s voice. 

“So, uh, baseball, huh? Yeah, yeah, sure I could help you guys out. You know, I used to work out with the Cubs,” he blurts out in a fit of over-eager stupidity. 

“Are you certain? I know it’s a lot to ask of you to give up your trip, especially given your—” 

“Duty calls, Fraser,” Ray said. “I’ll head to the airport ASAP, call you once I have the flight details.” 

“That’s very generous of you, Ray.” 

“You gonna be able to give me a ride?” 

“Certainly. It’s time I return the favor.” 

Ray laughed. “Yeah. You remember the trick, right?” 

“Of course, though you can’t see me, I assure you I’m break, gas, break, gassing correctly.” 

“Good, good.” 

Ray didn’t hang up and Fraser didn’t hang up. 

Fraser cleared his throat, then said, “It’ll be good to have you back, Ray.” There was something in his voice, something almost urgent that made Ray’s heart flip. He almost said, “Fuck it. Have Welsh get Dewey in, he played in high school and I paid to play with the Cubs anyway. You come here, they can handle this dumb case and you probably haven’t had a vacation in years.” 

“Yeah, buddy,” he said instead. “It’ll be good to be back.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always very appreciated!
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://thisgirlsays22.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/aerbear22) | [dreamwidth](https://thisgirlsays22.dreamwidth.org/) if you, like me, just really really need dS in your life again right now (or are discovering it for the first time, exciting!) and wanna scream about it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Heat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25841974) by [feroxargentea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feroxargentea/pseuds/feroxargentea)




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